


Tarantism

by emily_420



Series: verbum suggerit [2]
Category: Gintama
Genre: F/F, past character death referenced
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-09
Updated: 2015-09-09
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:07:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emily_420/pseuds/emily_420
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tarantism: the urge to overcome melancholy by dancing. (It's too quiet here now.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tarantism

Sometimes, when she’s done working for the day, Tetsuko feels her brother’s absence hit her like a hammer to the stomach. Since his death, she’s tried to forge through her grief, shutting herself up in the workshop for hours longer than usual. Everything is so strange without Tetsuya; his presence was always so solid and steady, so loud and demanding to be noticed that it had been inconceivable that he could so easily leave her. 

He’s gone now, though, and, cooking alone in her kitchen, it’s more evident than ever. Everything she does seems so loud, so deafening in the cavernous emptiness of the house. Tetsuko had never minded being alone, before, but it’s different when it’s constant. No longer does she feel like she’s taking time for herself when alone; rather the loneliness is something she carries around with her, the knowledge that she’s going back to a silent home that now feels cold and unwelcoming. 

Tatsumi has been helping her with that. Meeting her, getting to know her and eventually dating her has been better for letting Tetsuko cope than anything else. Tatsumi is a welcome distraction at all times; Tetsuko loves being with her, loves her brightness and her warmth. When Tatsumi visits, her house feels like a home again. 

She always says that Tetsuko can call her if she needs anything. Tetsuko doesn’t like to bother her too much, so she doesn’t often take her up on that, but right now her eyes are misting over and she can’t pretend it’s the steam from her soup that’s barely hot anymore because she’s having trouble swallowing. 

It only takes Tatsumi fifteen minutes to rush over with a tub of ice cream under her arm, huffing furiously. In that time Tetsuko washes up – physical labour always takes her mind off things and she’s able to hold back her misery for at least a little while. Tatsumi greets her by setting the ice cream on the floor momentarily and scooping her up in a hug that lifts her off the floor. 

“Tatsumi,” she laughs a little, bracing her arms on Tatsumi’s shoulder’s. “Calm down, I’m not dying…” 

The look she gives Tetsuko is stern but fond. “Doesn’t mean you’re okay. Which is why I’m here.” 

Then they go to the kitchen and spend a solid half an hour eating from the carton and talking about everything other than how Tetsuko was feeling. Side by side, their arms pressing comfortably together, Tatsumi offers her spoon, and, laughing, Tetsuko lets her. Outside, it’s long been dark, and while they stand there the night marches on, grows cooler. The ice cream goes away and Tatsumi wraps an arm around Tetsuko and they sit by the fire and breathe. 

In the quiet, with the dark lit up only by the fire and feeling warm from Tatsumi and the tea they’re drinking and the happiness in her chest, Tetsuko says softly, “It’s so quiet. With him gone.” 

Tatsumi hums into her hair and says, “I’ll stay with you,” and just as Tetsuko’s going to press her face into her girlfriend’s neck, Tatsumi grabs her hand and pulls her up. “Come on,” she says, smiling again, “you can’t stay depressed like this.” 

They grab a dusty old radio that hasn’t seen use in years and put it on the floor, fuzzy music spilling forth. Tatsumi pulls her into a slow, lazy dance by the fire. Laughing, almost embarrassed, Tetsuko goes along with it knowing that Tatsumi is trying to make her happy. What she doesn’t seem to grasp is that Tetsuko is happy just being with her, and that her presence is comfort enough.

Dancing is fun, though, and Tetsuko loves the proximity it brings, the intimacy of it. Tatsumi spins her around and brings her close, and together they make their own warmth in the night like the fire quietly cracking along with the radio. 


End file.
